Freedom
by PlatinumViola
Summary: AU. Sam is a rich debutante waiting to be married off to some rich suitor. Kind of like an AU prologue to the whole series. When her mother lets her visit a ranch, can her love of horses find her the freedom she's been searching for? Currently on hiatus.


**Hi everyone. This is completely AU. Sam is a rich debutante, who finds solace in horses. Enjoy!**

In the dim light of dawn, a girl stood anxiously in her room, looking out the window at the streaks of purple and orange along the distinct horizon. Slowly, minute by minute, the sky grew a little bit lighter with bright red. What was a few minutes ago only faded silhouettes, now appeared in full colour: manicured flowerbeds, cobblestone paths, and a towering brownstone wall with a wrought iron gate. Holding her curtain back with one hand, she turned up the volume of her music with her other.

For that serene moment, she could pretend she was somebody else. That she was far away from where she really was, and that she could deny her birth name with all her heart. What name should she choose? A rebellious one, for sure. One that bore absolutely no relation to money and social status. Unlike Samantha_ Forster. _As the music's bass line ricocheted across the walls of her suite, she could dream up a whole new identity. A debonair thief stoked out at Le Louvre, a working student at Oxford, a lead singer for some band. It could all be real, for some time anyway.

"Samantha!"

The girl spun around to the irritated voice that had entered unnoticed.

"It's 5 o'clock in the morning! What in the world are you doing?" The woman strode to the blaring iPod dock and unplugged it.

The girl glared defiantly at the woman. "I'm listening to music."

"Good grace." The woman's eyes blazed with unreleased anger. "It's barely morning."

The look on Samantha's was evident that the oncoming confrontation had been played before, over and over, like a broken record.

"I can do exactly what I want." Samantha had often cringed after saying such things to her mother, but after continuous need to do so, she became indifferent to the concept.

The woman shook her head. "Has this got anything to do with tonight's party?"

"I don't want to go, Mom."

"Nonsense," her mother's tone was spiteful. "You will certainly go. I raised you to be an exceptional debutante."

"I'm 18." Samantha rose angrily from her seat at the window, and stepped to meet her mother head-on. "You don't rule my life any longer."

"You are 18. Exactly my point. Your debut is this Saturday, and it would be wise for you to appear at tonight's social." Here her mother stopped unhappily. "You have yet to snag an engagement."

"Do I care?" Samantha's voice grew louder. "I don't want to marry money, Mom. I'm not like you are."

Her mother sniffed. "You are insane, Samantha. Do you perhaps rely on your assured inheritance from your father? Yet much money won't earn you a place in Manhattan's elite. You have to marry a respected name. Paul Husting would do wonderfully."

"Paul is nothing but a dimwit."

"With several large estates, owns 10% of New York state, and a remarkably star-studded future."

Samantha sank back onto her bed. "You don't understand. I believe in love, Mom."

"Samantha, we've been through this. Love belongs in fairy tales. And fairy tales aren't real."

Samantha opened her mouth to retort, but her mother cut her off.

"Enough of this. Go back to sleep, Samantha. You will go to the social tonight," her mother said sharply, but turned when she reached the door. "Samantha, I only want the best for you. You don't what it is, so I have to show you. You'll understand in the future."

As the door clicked shut, Samantha threw a pillow at the door and it rattled against its frame. She collapsed on her bed, staring at the ceiling and growing increasingly irritated at her mother's words. Her mother spoke from reason, but even that didn't justify what she said. Just because her mother's first marriage didn't work out didn't mean that love wasn't real.

For all Samantha had experienced in her sheltered life at Merrywood, she might have believed her mother's words. But as she stared at the ceiling, it morphed into a scene from her past, a mere two years ago, but refreshingly clear in her memory….

* * *

><p>"Yeah, Sam."<p>

Samantha smiled at her friend Jennifer, who stood behind the wooden corral. As she galloped around the enclosure, she waved a hand in recognition to her friend's praise.

She patted her horse's flank. "Thanks Ace. It was all you," she whispered into the horse's ear.

As they slowed to a stop, Samantha slipped off Ace's back, her boots hitting the ground, raising dust.

"You can do dressage with her, Sam." Jennifer said admiringly as she nodded toward Sam's horse.

Sam beamed. "I know it."

They stood there in silent companionship, watching Ace toss her mane and shuffle her hooves.

"It's the only thing my Mom lets me do," Samantha said after a few minutes.

"What?"

Sam nodded toward Ace. "She thinks I'm insane for wanting to spend time on horses, when I could be cruising on joyrides in my Maserati. After all, I've just gotten my license."

Jennifer shrugged. "Your mom was raised elite, Sam. It ain't her fault."

"Jen, she would kill me if she knew you were my friend. She wants me to mingle with the snooty rich girls in those pathetic society balls." Sam sighed. Jennifer was the only person she ever shared her personal thoughts with.

"Don't worry about it," Jennifer's blue eyes sparkled in the bright sun. "She lets you horseback ride, and that's what you want to do. She doesn't know about me, and she doesn't have to."

Sam settled against the corral's wooden beams. "You're right."

They were silent again.

"I want to go over that jump again," Sam said finally.

Jen nodded. "Do it. She's apt to pull something impressive with her excitement."

Sam strode to the sturdy wooden gate, and unlatched it. As she stepped toward the golden sorrel, she held out a hand. "Ace, sweetheart. We're going to do that jump again."

The horse stepped toward her eagerly.

"She loves you, Sam." Jen's voice said from the other side of the corral.

Sam froze and turned to her pretty friend. "Jen, is love real?"

Jennifer frowned. "Of course it is. Would you do anything for Ace? She would do anything too. She'll swim you across the ocean if you asked her to."

Sam pressed her lips together. "Oh."

As she mounted her horse, swinging into the saddle, she gazed half-heartedly at the stables. They were so close to the riding corral at this horseback riding centre. Her horse was used to rolling hills and grassy fields from where her father's ranch had been. Sam had used to ride there, but her mother insisted that she move Ace to a closer stable. What a price to pay. Now she had to ride in a circle corral. Ace wasn't yet used to all the modernity this New York riding centre had, and sometimes shied away from the centre's ATVs.

She rode Ace at a trot around the corral once, and focused on the high jump they were going to do. It was a tall one, good enough for professional competition, which Samantha sometimes wished she could do. Her mother wouldn't approve of it, for sure. She'd rather Sam to make news about her extensive Gucci stiletto collection, or perhaps her wide array of handmade suede gloves. Sam's thoughts wandered a little bit, while the oncoming jump vied for her attention.

Perhaps it was due to her distracted mind, her horse's unfamiliarity to their surroundings, and pure, irrevocable chance that what happened next was a horror. That just as Ace was making her final stride before the jump, Sam forgot to bring her weight forward, grabbed at the saddle horn in an attempt to stay on her horse's back, and a revving sound filled Sam's ears. Horse and rider crashed into the poles and landed with a sickening thud on the corral's fine dust.

Jennifer shrieked before it happened, seeing the scenario for a terrifying moment in nothing but slow motion. She ran towards the ATV in an honest attempt to stop it, her arms thrust forward as if she could physically erase the whole situation.

But it was too late.

"Samantha."

Sam struggled to open her eyes against the hospital's bright industrial lighting.

Her mother looked relieved. "Samantha, I'm so glad that you're alright."

"Yeah," Sam said. "It was.." She struggled to recall what had happened. "Ace, and we made a mistake on that jump…"

Her mother's face morphed into an unidentifiable expression. Angry? No, more than that. Sam was sure that she was in for a terrifying earful of reprimand.

"I'm sorry, Mom."

The older of the two Forsters pressed her lips into a thin line. "Nonsense, Samantha. It was not your fault." She waved a hand toward herself. "To be honest, it was mine. I should not have allowed you to ride that unreliable horse. Thank goodness that she'll not be around anymore."

Sam felt a wave of passion rise over her, giving her leave to ignore the pain in her broken leg and bruised torso. "What?"

The woman rose an eyebrow. "I've just signed the papers to put her down."

"No. No. _No._" Sam collapsed back onto the bed, but almost immediately rose again. "I hate you, Mom. You mean she's dead?" Sam's eyes stung and threatened to spill tears down her flushed cheeks, but she bit them back angrily. "It wasn't Ace's fault. It was mine. Isn't some animal rights agency after you right now? _That can't even be legal_, Mom." Sam felt the emotional gash in her heart deepen.

"Samantha, she was injured in the accident. I can't allow horses who can't carry their riders to exist as my property. Especially if the horse was carrying my future debutante."

There it was again, Sam thought. Debutante, debutante, debutante. Social, social, social. Money, money, money.

Sam turned her face to the wall. "Get out of my room." She would've argued to the death with her mother, but the adrenaline that had coursed inside her had been replaced by an utter, inconsolable grief. She wanted nothing more to cry into her pillow and wish it was all a dream.

It was exactly what she did.

As Sam continued to stare up at the ceiling, she knew that her mother was incredibly wrong. And she also knew something else. What Jennifer had told her about love was true. Sam had loved Ace as the horse she had grown up with, and created a bond with that she would always cherish.

Ace had carried her up hills and down valleys, every time Sam had sought a refuge from her bickering parents before their divorce, every time her mother had snapped at her incompetence at being a refined debutante, every time the harsh reality of old money's snobbish sense had snapped at her unmercifully.

Ace had been there to shelter her, and keep her spirit void of bitterness. After all, as pathetic as it may sound, Ace had been her only friend all of her childhood days. The stuck-up girls from her private school were only concerned about Hermes' new designer stilettos, or their recent cruise in the Mediterannean. Her mother had only offered her guidance on how to snag the richest men, and what each season's new looks were. Ace had listened to Sam, and now, even after more than two years, the sting of her death still bit.

Samantha had been lucky her mother had allowed her to ride again after a year since the accident. Sam had been riding a sorrel named Fire Fly. She loved Fire and their unmistakable rightness for each other, and she helped fill the little gap that Ace had left behind in Sam's heart.

* * *

><p>When Sam stepped down the wide staircase into the dining hall, she looked up and found her mother and stepfather already seated at the table eating breakfast. As her mother looked up expectantly, Sam did nothing to quicken her pace.<p>

"Good morning." Wyatt Forster nodded from the front of the table.

"Good morning," Sam replied.

Sam picked at her gourmet breakfast prepared by their chef as her parents discussed stock markets, and her mother expressed concern at Wyatt's not being able to attend the social that night. When their banter had simmered down, Sam caught a glance Wyatt stole at her mother expectantly, and her mother turned to her.

"Samantha, your stepfather and I have been thinking that it would be nice for you to go on vacation. He says that you'd like a more modern approach to our upbringing, though I can only say we are as modern as it gets," she said, gesturing around at their phenomenal mansion. "Still, you're old enough, and the sky is your limit. You can cruise with a stop in Havana, fly to Paris," Mrs. Brynna Forster went on excitedly about how chique the new styles in fashion capital's Milan were.

"Or," Wyatt finally broke in, "you can stay in this country."

Brynna Forster waved his sentence away. "Samantha, what else is there to see here in America? We've been everywhere around here. Think Europe!"

"We've been everywhere there too, Brynna," Wyatt said to his wife.

Brynna seemed to concede the point. She opened her mouth as if to say more, but she was cut off again.

"We've been everywhere south, too."

"Well," Brynna continued undeterred, "there's nothing wrong going to see Havana or the Bahamas again."

**Reviews are greatly appreciated!**


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